Gianna's Demise
by Petals Open to the Moon
Summary: "She kept their accounts, seeing to their affairs, but little else. And the immortality part of it? Well, that was the catch. It was the reason she consented to live in such confinement; a recluse from her native sun. It was the lifeline she clung to." A oneshot of the ill-fated secretary.


**Gianna's Demise**

The woman was beautiful. Her eyes were emeralds, mocking the less vivid flames that lit the passageway. She smiled, cherry lips scintillating against dark, bronzed flesh. Her legs, long and slender, moved sensuously under her dress. She'd bought it just last week, at _Giselli's._ It revealed just the right amount of skin, dipping provocatively in the center. She'd twisted her copper hair in a French bun, and her face stood out in stunning detail.

She smiled to herself. The dress was for _him,_ of course. It was all for him. She could already envision his gleeful appraisal of her. He was so warm… so affectionate…

It was very quiet. Her heels were the only sound in the stillness. She stumbled a little, nearly losing her grip on the salver. The silver edges were cool to touch. The letter lay there—tantalizing, unknown—but she restrained her urge to open it. It was for _his_ eyes, alone. Her masters seldom received anything, making her job all the more easier. She kept their accounts, seeing to their affairs, but little else.

And the immortality part of it? Well, that was the catch. It was the reason she consented to live in such confinement; a recluse from her native sun. It was the lifeline she clung to.

The woman tossed her hair from her face. The stone doors loomed above her, black and steady, but she needn't open them. Two shadows crept from nowhere, grasping the handles with cold, bloodless fingers. They ran their eyes over her boldly as she walked past them. The woman laughed softly, mistaking thirst for lust.

She blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness. Light poured in from a corner of the room, revealing three pale, silent faces. The second rose, stepping towards her eagerly. He was tall and dark, and unlike his brothers, his eyes shone with life and brilliancy.

"Gianna!" he said welcomingly. He lifted his hand. "Come here, my dear."

She obeyed, swaying slightly as she walked. He took in the dress briefly, and a slow smile dawned across his face. "A letter?" he said casually. "For me?"

"Just arrived, my lord," she clarified. "There's no return address."

"Curious," was all he said. He lifted the envelope delicately, and tore open the dark red seal. Gianna bowed her head as he scanned the single page, trying to appear demure and polite, as usual. No need to incite her masters' anger. If she _were_ to join, it had to be soon. What if this was her chance?

"How wonderful!" Aro exclaimed to himself. "This is much sooner than I expected."

"Good news, my lord?" she said tentatively.

"Even better, dear one." He folded up the paper gleefully. "I've been waiting a _long_ time for this."

Gianna sighed, and began to walk away. Obviously, her master's mind was on much more important matters. _Well, there's always next month. Surely this will be cleared up by then._

"Gianna?"

She turned. "Yes, my lord?"

A sad expression was in his crimson eyes. "Are you leaving us so soon? Come here…"

She took his outstretched hand, too used to the extreme coldness to shudder away. "Is anything the matter, my sweet?" he asked softly.

This was her chance. "I _was_ hoping, my lord, that you had reached a decision about—well, what I discussed with you a month ago. You promised me you would consider the matter."

"Ah, yes…" he murmured. His cold hand trailed down her cheek, making her shiver. "You've been faithful, Gianna. I will grant you that." He smiled sweetly at her. "It's time to receive what you deserve."

Gianna gasped, and she looked up at him with joy and gratitude. "You mean it, my lord? I may join you?"

"Yes," he said gently. His hand caressed the bare skin of her shoulder before dropping back to his side. "Go on, now. Demetri will take care of you."

He watched her walk quickly from the room, bowing before she left, and the doors echoed shut behind her. The same slow smile spread across Aro's face. He lifted a hand, his eyes closed in anticipation. The silence grew heavier and heavier, until it was broken suddenly by a violent shudder against the doors.

"Ha-ha!" Aro laughed.

Caius shifted in his chair. "I _wish_ you wouldn't do that," he snapped.

"Oh, don't be so annoying, brother," Aro chuckled. "You can have half, I promise."

Caius glanced over at Marcus, sighed, then turned back to Aro. "What news, then?"

His brother lifted the letter in his fingers. "It seems we have a wedding on our hands," he said softly.

Caius' scowl remained unmoved as he read the invitation.

"Well, Caius?" Aro teased. "Are you not satisfied?"

"She's still not immortal."

"Nonsense, brother. You could see yourself how eager the girl was to be changed. Edward's the only one I know of against her."

"Perfect," Caius retorted. "We have the groom's disapproval."

But Aro wasn't listening. Demetri had stumbled through the doors, dragging Gianna's broken body with him. "My lord," he said quickly, setting her at his feet.

"Thank you, Demetri," Aro murmured. "There's a surprise waiting for you outside. Bring Felix with you."

A growl purred in the vampire's chest, and he retreated silently from the room. Aro, meanwhile, bent to the floor, running a cold finger along the woman's neck.

"Are you listening to me, Aro?" Caius said impatiently.

"I'm always listening, dear brother."

"What if this promise isn't kept? What if the Cullen boy holds off too long?"

Aro laughed again. "She's _human,_ Caius. Their first moments of intimacy will be his worst nightmare. Do you think he'll _want_ to keep her so vulnerable after that?"

Caius frowned, still doubtful.

"Come now," Aro invited. "I promised you half, didn't I?"

Caius left his chair with a smile, coming to kneel beside his brother. Marcus watched them silently, a curve of disgust on his lips.

A moan broke from Aro's lips as Caius opened a vein in her neck. They lapped up the ensuing blood, keeping their clothing meticulous from centuries of practice. Her wrists were next, and then the arms, until they tore the dress in a frenzy of maddened hunger…


End file.
